


pain

by koolcatkenma



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Future Fic, Getting Together, Graphic Description of Injuries, M/M, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20495183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koolcatkenma/pseuds/koolcatkenma
Summary: Kyoutani hides everything because he wants to worry no one. Especially Yahaba.





	pain

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically word vomit and not a vent. there are descriptions of injuries and abuse in this, so please don;t read if that triggers you. thank you love you

Kyoutani was always abrasive and abrupt; in the halls, at practice, out in the world. Nobody but the team would get close to him, and even then they were skittish. The only person willing to get close to him, enough to raise his own voice and fists was Yahaba. On the court and off. 

His routine had basically been memorized by the setter; because no matter if they got into a fight that day, one would wait for the others before heading to homeroom or home. Fortunately, they only lived about a street apart, which made studying with one another easy. But there was one thing:

They never studied at Kyoutani’s house. 

Yahaba had seen it before from the outside when he walked to meet his friend one morning. Kyoutani had seemed shocked to see him standing outside his fence, scared even. The door was shut in a matter of seconds and the setter was being dragged by the hand away from the normal looking house, his friend insisting that they were going to be late. 

From that day on, Kyoutani was always the one outside Yahaba’s house, before he was even able to finish breakfast. 

Volleyball season came and passed, the third years passing down the leadership to the no longer underclassmen. Yahaba was named captain, and shockingly Kyoutani was given the title of vice-captain. Iwaizumi backed his decision with the fact that Kyoutani no longer growled when you looked at him, and he was actually coming up with new plays and strategies. He had grown.

And the team was welcoming. They accepted the duo as their new leaders, as well as the other third years as role models and people to trust. And with the end of season and school, summer began.

Practices were held once a week, with Sunday being a day of rest for the team. It was during this time Yahaba grew closer to his vice-captain; they constantly met up to talk the upcoming year, who to look out for, what first years were coming to their school, and where to place the now second years. Coffee shop meetups turned into lazy days on Yahaba’s couch, playing video games to avoid the unbearable heat. Those morphed into late nights of take-out and movies when the rain was so heavy Kyoutani couldn’t possibly walk home until it lightened up. 

And then, during the late hours at the end of the summer, while laying in Yahaba’s hammock hidden by tall trees and the dark, the two let themselves accept what their relationship was becoming. And they kissed, slow and soft, the experience new to both. 

School started a week later.

They fell back into their old routine; Kyoutani showing up to his house with breakfast, hands now finding each other, shoulders touching more than a few times. 

And everything was good. Until it wasn’t.

Yahaba exited his house one brisk morning to find that nobody was waiting at his fence. After checking his text, he realized that Kyoutani was late, for the first time. 

He started the short walk to his boyfriend’s house and was at the door in a matter of minutes. That’s when he heard it; the sounds of fighting, violent and aggressive. Something was thrown because the sound of it shattering was close to the door he stood behind. And then it was opened, and the look of horror on Kyoutani’s face disappeared as quickly as he shut the door, grabbing Yahaba’s hand and leading him back down the path, saying that they were going to be late to practice, and how would it look it both of them were late?

The setter decided not to question, not press the boy. His shoulders held a lot of tension and a scowl was glued to his face. To talk about it now would mean a practice filled with angry spikes and growling.  _ Later _ . 

Later turned into after school, after winning a practice match, when they were alone and walking out of a convince store, warmed buns in hand. All tension from the morning had dissipated, and the spiker was happily chowing down on his treat. But before he could speak, Kyoutani beat him to it.

“Could we study at your house tonight? I don’t feel like going out anywhere.” And all he could do was give a nod, assuring that his mother probably already had dinner made and definitely set an extra place at the table for him. Upon hearing this, Kyoutani blushed. Affection from Yahaba was one thing, but the kind words and actions of the rest of his family made him go uncharacteristically quiet and bashful. It was cute. 

Sure enough, there was an extra bowl of soup waiting and they all sat down to a meal together, recounting the events of the practice match. All thoughts of this morning faded.

Several weeks passed and Kyoutani wasn’t late again. But then they hit another bump, this time one in their relationship. 

Kyoutani now refused to take his shirt off when they were intimate. He had no problem losing the rest of his clothes, which was apparent whenever they had the house to themselves. But his shirt always stayed on. Which was different from before. Yahaba loved to see those muscles, those well-defined abs, the freckles and beauty marks on his back and chest that only he knew about because they were so small and light. The surgery scar on his lower abdomen raised and pink. Yahaba was no longer allowed to leave his own marks and he had no idea why. 

Since that one morning, he never questioned why they didn’t go to Kyoutani’s house. It was clear something was happening, but Kyoutani remained unfazed in the regular day. So he didn’t press. But something was obviously wrong. He wanted to find out what. He was worried. 

The captain planned out exactly how he was going to get the information from his stubborn boyfriend; the house to themselves, their favorite meal and dessert, no practice the next day (which meant no school by association) and an endless supply of movies. But Yahaba should have known by now that nothing goes to plan.

Kyoutani stayed late to show a first-year some spiking techniques. The setter sat, dressed and ready to go, on the Coach’s bench, fiddling with his phone. After the vice-captain was satisfied, he let the underclassman go. And he headed to the locker room alone, promising to be quick. He usually was.

But ten minutes passed and he still hadn’t come out. And Yahaba was impatient. He got up, walking towards the door, ready to whine about not wanting to walk in the dark. But the words were swallowed before he could even take a breath.

He hadn’t expected to see his boyfriend’s strong back, sometimes bruised from volleyball, torn apart. Red, raw, and bleeding. Fresh wounds on top of scars, some old some new. The bruising was more than what a volleyball could do, surrounding the red with black and purple and yellow. 

Kyoutani hadn’t heard him come in, but Yahaba now knew why he was taking longer than usual. His movements were slow, every stretch making him hiss in pain. It was a wonder how he got through the school day, let alone practice.  _ How did he manage to keep a straight face? _

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he stepped forward.

“Kentarou…” He whispered, stepping towards his lover. The boy whipped around, startled by the sudden sound and realization that he was no longer alone. Cuss words threatened to leave his mouth, but they would have been empty and meaningless. Because all he really wanted to do was cry.

“Don’t. Don’t read into it. It’s nothing.” Came out instead, firm and assertive. The tone made Yahaba stop for only a second. The locker room was no place to talk about this. And talk they would, and Kyoutani knew this. Because he couldn’t escape this forever. 

He threw on a sweater and grabbed his bag, pushing past Yahaba, snapping him out of his trance. The captain followed.

Fingers found one another and they intertwined, the walk to his house quiet. Snow began to fall from the sky, melting on his face and sticking to his hair.

As expected, Yahaba’s residence was dark and empty, family up North to visit relatives. The pair entered without a word, stripping off their shoes and placing their bags in the cubbies. Kyoutani was the first to step forward, passing the kitchen and living area, heading up the steps and into Yahaba’s room, with his boyfriend close behind.

In the comfort of the small room, he was able to breathe. Sobs choked him, shaking his whole body. Tears ran freely and fast, dripping onto his clothes and the comforter. Yahaba was quick to his side, holding his boyfriend’s face in his hands. Lips pressed against the tears, soft and assuring. 

When the shaking slowed and the sobs turned to hiccups, Yahaba got up to retrieve his first aid kit. Knowing, Kyoutain stripped his sweatshirt, lying facedown on the bed. At the first sting of cleanser he growled, face scrunching in pain. But soon he got used to it. And then he started to talk, to the pillow first. He didn’t want to have a real conversation yet, or it would all become real.

“He wasn’t always like this. He was good for a long time. But mom left during summer, taking my little sister somewhere else. She said she left me because I could hold my own, that I would be okay. But he started drinking again, and he lost his job. And then he learned about you and put two and two together.” Another round of cleanser stopped his words, teeth clenching and muscles tensing. Yahaba was gentle, light hands placing gauze over the fresh wounds. He whispered sweet nothings to the boy under him.

“I never wanted you to meet him. I never wanted you to get caught up in my mess. Never wanted you to know.” He spoke to him directly now, facing the pillow still. Yahaba just hummed, glad his lover couldn’t see the tears staining his cheeks. 

When he was satisfied with his wrappings, Yahaba laid a warm blanket over him before curling up next to the boy in his bed. Kyoutani saw his wet cheeks and reached out to wipe them, muttering something about him being a dumbass for crying, though he was also crying as the words left his mouth. 

“You’re not going back there. I won’t let you.” Yahaba whispered, caressing his face. “You can stay here. My family loves you. I live closer to school. My bed is big enough. We have enough room. You don’t have to ever go back. You’re not.”

“Shigeru, thank you.”

For the next week or so, Kyoutani was ordered to bed rest by Yahaba. He was forbidden to tell his mother exactly why he was suddenly the newest member of the family, but she knew enough. His father threatened the police, saying how the bastard shouldn’t be allowed to live comfortably. But Kyoutani reassured him that with the lack of a job, his father wouldn’t be in the neighborhood much longer.

The team questioned Yahaba, wondering where their vice-captain had gone off to. They were worried it was a repeat of the past, but he quickly assured them that it was the flu, and all of them better not catch it as well. 

  
  


The wounds closed, and Kyoutani was able to stand and stretch without much pain. He returned to his normal life without hearing from his father; to be expected. He came back to volleyball stronger than ever, no pain holding him back from using his full strength. And they went to nationals. And they won. And everything was good. 


End file.
